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XXI. THE RIDDLES OF THE SPHINX.
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93

XXI. THE RIDDLES OF THE SPHINX.


94

'Twas night; the House was cleared,
And hushed the fierce debate,
And robed in clouds the Sphinx appeared
Before St. Stephen's gate.
A virgin's face above,
A lion's form beneath,
Upon those lips was maiden love,
Within those claws was death.
She look'd on that high Hall
With a grim and scornful smile;
And vapours passed like a funeral pall
O'er Heaven's expanse the while;
And the moon went back that hour
In an unforetold eclipse,
As the words of mystery and power
Fell from the marble lips.
“Can ye teach the Owl to meet
The light of the morning skies?
Can ye make the rays of reason sweet
To a bigot's blinking eyes?
Can ye bar the lightning's track
With a canopy of cloth?
Can ye beat a nation's fury back
With Bibles and cheap broth?

95

“Can ye count the grains of sand
On Ocean's stormy beach,
Or the blunders that Lord Westmoreland
Makes in a single speech?
Can ye read what words are writ
On the tombs of sacred Nile,
Or construe Mr. Bankes's wit,
When he makes the gallery smile?
“What drove Lord Melville out?
What made Lord Bexley stay?
And why does Londonderry spout?
And why do asses bray?
Why does the morning dawn
When Phœbus takes his seat?
And why does all the peerage yawn
When Redesdale talks of wheat?
“How shall the blind discern
That black is never white?
How shall a rotten borough learn
That wrong is never right?
How shall fair health be sought
In the shade of a upas tree,
Or how shall honest deeds be wrought
In Sarum or Tralee?

96

“Why does the Earth turn round?
And why does the Morning Post?
And when will the longitude be found,
Or the art of reigning lost?
And when will ice be warm?
And when will wrath be cool?
And when will love be not a charm,
And a minstrel not a fool?”
While cards were cut in the Hell,
And capers on the stage,
While night on the monarch's palace fell,
And on the student's page,
The riddling Sphinx thus sung
Her how, and when, and why,
And like Sir Thomas, questions flung
With none to make reply.